Healing wounds
by Rubyheart arts
Summary: I could always hear it, even when I was little. I could never understand the words but somehow I knew they were important, like they were calling out to me, like they needed me. If only I had known what they lead to.
1. Chapter 1

I could always hear it, even when I was little. I could never understand the words but somehow I knew they were important, like they were calling out to me, like they needed me. If only I had known what they lead to.

Veneziano slowly opened his eyes as he woke up. He stared sleepily at the ceiling as he allowed his eyes to adjust to the blinding light coming from the open window. He let out a sigh as he tried to recall his dream for the forth time this week. He knew it was same dream as always, but the full events had completely escaped his mind.

Sighing in defeat, Veneziano slowly pushed himself out of his comfortable bed and made his way through his large, empty house. After a long and painful trek down the hallway he finally reached his lounge room. It was bare and lifeless like nobody even lived there anymore, and he supposed that was true. He spent most of his time in his room anyway. His eyes caught the old clock shoved off into the corner. It flashed 11:47am. Well, at least it's earlier than yesterday, he thought.

He moved slowly to his couch as every step ached. Flopping down, he once again stared at the unmoving ceiling, letting his eyes drift closed and the minuets pass by listening to all the sounds from the outside word. The soft sounds of the birds chirping, the silky sounds of the howling wind and the whispering sound of cheers and hopes from his civilians that never truly left him.

Suddenly there was a loud pounding at the door, snapping Veneziano out of his lovely trance-like state. He sighed as he heard the heavy footsteps stomp through his house. Slowly he opened his drowsy eyes, he was met with a very familiar figure. He turned away from the other overbearing presence. The other placed a caring hand upon his shoulder and spoke with a calm voice.

"Italy, hav-"

"IM NOT ITALY!" He roared rejecting any physical contact by violently shrugging his hand off and crawling up into a defensive position.

"Veneziano, sorry. Have you eaten yet or had anything to drink?" Veneziano stayed silent.

The two of them stared deeply at each other not breaking their silent staring contest. Finally after minutes of waiting, Veneziano broke the silence.

"You don't have to keep doing this, Prussia. I can look after myself." He whispered, glaring a bit.

"No you can't. You need help, you can't keep yourself locked up in here forever. Your people need you. We all need you." Prussia pleaded. Veneziano felt tears sting his eyes and run down his cheeks as his anger grew and grew, eating away at him until he snapped.

He launched himself at the other grabbing him by his collar and pushing him hard against the ground, Prussia snapped his arms up into hoping to protect himself from Veneziano's powerful punches, though he didn't do much to stop him. Hit after hit, he could feel his arms bruise up as punches grew weaker. Luckily the smaller boy was quickly burned out and ended up passing out onto the others chest. Prussia scooped up the other and made his way down the small hallway to the Italians bedroom.

He placed the light boy down onto the oversized bed, wrapping him in the warmth. He sighed, turning to the uneaten sandwich and picking it up before leaving the room to let the other rest.

"Venice? Is that you Venice?" That voice... I know that voice, he throught. Veneziano felt his eyes slowly open and was meet with a beautiful endless field. Scattered around him were vibrant flowers and directly in front of him was a gigantic old oak tree, it's branches reaching up above the delicate clouds. Leaning against the tree was a worn out oval shaped mirror, in the middle of the mirror was a crack separating the two sides.

"Venice." There it was again. Where was it coming from?

"Venice." It happened again, but this time he saw a faint glow come from the top half of the mirror. He tried to walk forward towards it, but when he tried to get up felt a sharp sting travel through his body, almost like there was thorns dig deep into his legs. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth and reached his arms out and started dragging himself closer to the mirror. He couldn't do it, the weight on his legs keep getting heavier almost as a warning.

Out of breath and feeling himself fade away, he reached out to grab the mirror barely feeling it touch his fingertips as he pulled it back with him. Taking a moment to regain his breath he looked down at the object in his hands. It shone brightly and the glass was foggy. Veneziano lifted the heavy mirror right above his head starring at the hypnotic crack separating the two sides.

Suddenly the mirror shattered, little pieces of glass falling down right onto his eyes and piercing through his skull.

He shot up awake.


	2. Chapter 2

Veneziano shot up awake from the dream, well more of a nightmare. His eyes darted around his unkempt room looking for something to focus on as he tried to slow down his heavy breathing. He squeezed down on his hands suddenly jolting straight back up as he felt a shock of pain flow through his left hand. Starring down he saw crimson blood flow from his palm and stain the white sheets.

Panicking Veneziano stumbled his way out of his bedroom and down the hallway to the bathroom. Rushing to stop the blood flow, he turned the tap on place his hand under the running water. Calming down, he finally noticed the shiny object wedged in his palm. It was a piece of broken glass stained in his own blood. Tearing his eyes away from the glass he look up only now noticing the broken mirror right in front of him.

The glass was cracked exactly like it was in his dream, except this time there was a jagged hole in the middle. His head dropped down to his hand again, his eyes wandered quickly to the jagged piece of glass that had cut his hand. He felt his body begin to shake with fear.

"How is this possible? It was only a dream right?" Veneziano said shakily to himself.

Fixated on the broken mirror, not taking his eyes off the hypnotizing object, Veneziano lifted his left hand slowly towards the mirror, resting his other hand upon the sink for support. He couldn't describe this feeling. He felt like he was being dragged closer and closer like this would unlock something, a gate? Or was it simpler than that, was he just overthinking it?

As he hovered his left hand over the hole in the mirror, his wound started to bleed again. He pressed the broken piece back into the mirror, using his blood as a glue to keep the shard in place. Taking two steps backwards he keep his eyes on the mirror, it was clean, save for the bloody handprint right in the middle.

Holding his breath, he waited for something, anything to happen. However... nothing. Nothing happened. No glow like in his dream. It just sat there, silent, unchanging. No no no no this wasn't what was meant to happen, there had to be an explanation behind it all. What was that voice? What did it all mean? Looking around he realized where he was. This was his room. No, he couldn't be here. He felt trapped. Knowing he had to get away from this place, he fled.

Veneziano ran, with his head held low and tears streaming down his face he ran. Finally, he started to slow down he looked around, struggling to catch his breath. He noticed something familiar off in the distance. It was an old and run-down house. There were some vines and other plants growing up the sides, but it still looked clean and well kept. As he walked closer to the house, memories flooded him, memories from when he still just a small nation.

Wiping away the tears from his eyes he walked slowly up to the old wood door.

"Italy! What is that on your- nevermind, come inside sit down. I'll get you something to drink." She gently pulled him inside, griping his wounded hand and wrapping it up before hurrying him over to a small seating area. Veneziano sat quietly while Hungary hastily set up a small lunch for the both of them.

"So Ita- ahem, Veneziano, what brings you here darling?" He stayed quiet dogging the question. Hungary brought a small platter of rich cheeses and biscuits along with two cups of tea over to the small coffee table in the middle of two comfy couches.

"I just.. needed to get out." He finally mumbled a reply. Hungary nodded her head in understanding.

"So uhm, have you talked to Germany lately?" She asked awkwardly, desperately trying to start up some small talk.

"He's been too busy lately." He muttered sadly, tensing up slightly and leaving them both in a heavy silence.

"Uhm, excuse me miss Hungary?" He asked timidly.

"Yes, what is it?" She replied.

"Could I possibly sleep here? Just for tonight." He asked quietly.

"Of course dear, you're always welcome here. I'll go set up a room for you right now, I'm sure you're tired. She happily jumped to her feet, leaving him to peacefully enjoy the small lunch by himself.

Veneziano laid in the small bed staring up at the plain ceiling, his blanket kicked off long ago, but he hadn't really needed it anyway. It was fairly hot around this time of year. The faintest glow of silvery moonlight shone through the old window, his eyes shutting against the light. As he laid in silence, he allowed old memories to flow through him. A sunny, open field, a small boy cloaked in black, a little girl in a green dress. Red, red stained her dress, stained the boy's clothes and face, dripping into the grass and painting it crimson too. His eyes shot open, stopping the gruesome memories, you could call them that.

Closing his eyes once more he tried to calm his shaky breathing and return to the strange memories, needing to know what happened. No matter what happened? they wouldn't return. He closed is eye again and again but all he could see was pitch black. Suddenly another image flashed through his head; the mirror, the one in his brother's bathroom, the one with a crack splitting it in half, covered in his own blood.

Knowing where he had to go, he left the house, not wanting to wake Hungary up from her peaceful sleep. He left quickly and quietly, without saying goodbye. He looked up, noticing the moon was now almost halfway up in the sky as he started his journey home. Once he had returned from his long and tiring trip, he wasted no time rushing towards his brother's bathroom. His blood had stained the mirror, not drying up in the slightest. It was exactly as it was left hours ago, still dripping into the sink and painting the porcelain red. Stepping forward, he felt a sudden jolt of nervous electricity through his body, making him move forward until he reached the mirror, extending his bandaged arm out as he waited for something to happen, until..

A blood-drenched shot out of the surface and wrapped around his wrist.


End file.
